“As good?” he echoed, chuckling. “You shall judge.” And briefly he sketched for her the springe he was setting with the help of Mr. Newlington. “Newlington is rich; the Duke is in straits for money. Newlington goes to-day to offer him twenty thousand pounds; and the Duke is to do him the honour of supping at his house to-morrow night to fetch the money. It is a reasonable request for Mr. Newlington to make under the circumstances, and the Duke cannot—dare not refuse it.”
“But how will that advance your project?” Ruth inquired, for Blake had paused again, thinking that the rest must be obvious.
“In Mr. Newlington's orchard I propose to post a score or so of men, well armed. Oh! I shall run no risks of betrayal by engaging Bridgwater folk. I'll get the fellows I need from General Feversham. We take Monmouth at supper, as quietly as may be, with what gentlemen happen to have accompanied him. We bind and gag the Duke, and we convey him with all speed and quiet out of Bridgwater. Feversham shall send a troop to await me a mile or so from the town on the road to Weston Zoyland. We shall join them with our captive, and thus convey him to the Royalist General. Could aught be simpler or more infallible?”
Richard had slipped from the table. He had changed his mind on the subject of the importance of the business Blake had in view. Excited by it, he clapped his friend on the back approvingly.
“A great plan!” he cried. “Is it not, Ruth?”
“It should be the means of saving hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives,” said she, “and so it deserves to prosper. But what of the officers who may be with the Duke?” she inquired.
“There are not likely to be many—half a dozen, say. We shall have to make short work of them, lest they should raise an alarm.” He saw her glance clouding. “That is the ugly part of the affair,” he was quick to add, himself assuming a look of sadness. He sighed. “What help is there?” he asked. “Better that those few should suffer than that, as you yourself have said, there should be some thousands of lives lost before this rebellion is put down. Besides,” he continued, “Monmouth's officers are far-seeing, ambitious men, who have entered into this affair to promote their own personal fortunes. They are gamesters who have set their lives upon the board against a great prize, and they know it. But these other poor misguided people who have gone out to fight for liberty and religion—it is these whom I am striving to rescue.”
His words sounded fervent, his sentiments almost heroic. Ruth looked at him, and wondered had she misjudged him in the past. She sighed. Then she thought of Wilding. He was on the other side, but where was he? Rumour ran that he was dead; that he and Grey had quarrelled at Lyme, and that Wilding had been killed as a result. Had it not been for Diana, who strenuously bade her attach no credit to these reports, she would readily have believed them. As it was she waited, wondering, thinking of him always as she had seen him on that day at Walford when he had taken his leave of her, and more than once, when she pondered the words he had said, the look that had invested his drooping eyes, she found herself with tears in her own. They welled up now, and she rose hastily to her feet.
She looked a moment at Blake who was watching her keenly, speculating upon this emotion of which she betrayed some sign, and wondering might not his heroism have touched her, for, as we have seen, he had arrayed a deed of excessive meanness, a deed worthy, almost, of the Iscariot, in the panoply of heroic achievement.
“I think,” she said, “that you are setting your hand to a very worthy and glorious enterprise, and I hope, nay, I am sure, that success must attend your efforts.” He was still bowing his thanks when she passed out through the open window-doors into the sunshine of the garden.